


Transit Chronicles

by Sakhmet



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 12:35:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakhmet/pseuds/Sakhmet
Summary: Life was different for him. Lucas takes the same route to work everyday, carefully wrapping his world up in routine and restraint. His cautious life is shaken up for the better when he takes a tumble one morning into the lap of a stranger with the kindest eyes.





	Transit Chronicles

If Lucas could describe how he felt most of the times, it would be swathed in cotton. He was always slightly removed from the world around him, muffling the hustle and bustle of the city with his music and the persistent aches in his body with painkillers. Some, like his friend Yann, would say he led a boring cautious life, albeit not by choice. But Lucas didn’t mind though. He was content with being a perennial wallflower, someone that always stood on the outskirts of life, drinking in the sights and sounds without judgement – unobtrusive and unimposing like the brush of a cat’s whiskers on an arm or the falling cloud-like seedlings of a cottonwood tree.

 He was content and sometimes when he laid in bed in night, he could almost convince himself that he felt _fulfilled_ and _excited_ by the trajectory his life was taking.  

 

~

 

 Lucas was a second-year university student majoring in Biology and intent on becoming a veterinarian. The days he didn’t spend studying or flipping through textbooks and pictures of arteries and ventricular systems, he was volunteering at his local animal shelter. Before the days of blooming bruises, needles and medications, Lucas’ fondest memories were the ones of him on his stepfather’s farm, surrounded by nickering horses and a one-eyed cat that he named Maurice who followed him around like a lost duckling. Cupping the soft, downy ball of feathers that was a baby chick with a broken wing, Lucas knew at the age of ten he wanted to care and fix animals so they wouldn’t have to feel what he felt all the time.

~

Lucas takes the same route to school and work, the same number 50 bus that was always crowded in the early-morning rush of students and smartly dressed people on their way to sleepy, stuffy classrooms and sleek high-rise offices. As his stop was midway on the bus’ route, by the time he boarded each seat was already occupied and he always had to stand. Lucas didn’t mind. The 30 min bus ride to his classes was his moment of the day to himself – the time he could plug in his earphones and lose himself in his music as he people-watched and mentally prepared himself for the day. He was well acquainted with the regulars on his bus… the hunched man who always wore the same clothes and smelled badly (Lucas always tried to avoiding standing next to him), the pretty girl who always slipped out of her sensible flats into towering high-heels midway into the bus journey, and the old Asian woman who always smiled at Lucas and gave him pieces of tamarind candy on rainy, gloomy days. “The Transit Crew,” Lucas dubbed the people he saw everyday who were bound together by the tedium of life and the need to get from point A to point B. Above all, Lucas was very, very careful on his daily commutes. A purse left too far in the aisle or an unwieldly backpack swung carelessly over someone’s shoulder could have some unpleasant and debilitating consequences – magenta and purple throbbing beneath skin, mapping a topography of chronic aches and pain.  

 

~

 

It was mid Fall, the weather still sunny but brisk enough for wool sweaters, knitted scarves and for the windows of the bus to fog up with body heat. Fall and winter was usually a good time of the year for him – less people on the streets. It was easier to bundle up and avoid a swerving bike or dodge throngs of people when the greyer, colder months caused people to hole up and stay indoors. The morning commutes were pleasant with less people – students already skiving off classes and choosing the comforts of their beds over 8 am classes.  The bus driver had also taken to cranking up the heat to create a warm, sleepy space that Lucas could daydream in.

This morning Lucas cupped a thermos of ginger tea in one hand and held onto the railing in the bus, keeping a careful balance as the bus moved through half-awake streets. The morning was like the hundreds of other mornings he had had before – quiet and drowsy and comfortable. There was one change he soon noticed though. Boarding the bus, he had noticed an unfamiliar figure. A boy slouched in one of the seats nearby, his head tilted, resting on the window of the bus, and his face half obscured by the hood of his jacket. Earphones trailed down from his ears and Lucas could hear the faint beats of some techno song playing. Lucas couldn’t tell if the boy was sleeping or not.

As he got closer to his destination and the classes that awaited him, Lucas got lost in the story he made up for the boy that was resting beside him. It was something he liked to do – make up pretend stories and characters and lives for the people he saw around him. Maybe this boy had slept in and missed his regular bus to work at the café he was a barista at. Maybe he was hungover after a night of rowdy partying and had stubbed his toe as he rushed to feed his cat and throw on clothes before he ran out the door.  

 

Lucas was physically jolted out of his thoughts when the bus abruptly swerved and he, quite suddenly, went flying. Before he could quite fully comprehend what had happened, Lucas had banged his hand against the side of his bus and found himself sprawled across the lap of a boy who blinked sleepily down at him.

With his hood down, Lucas was immediately caught off guard by how handsome said boy was. Tousled hair that managed to look messy but intentional at the same time framed vivid blue eyes and high cheekbones. “Are you alright? You took a hard fall.” A soft, concerned voice broke Lucas out of his ogling and he realized he was probably staring too long for what was socially acceptable. “Yes!” Lucas stammered, embarrassed and shy in the face of the boy’s beauty and genuine concern.  “I’m alright, sorry about that!” Lucas made to move and lift his body (reluctantly) off the boy but the dull throb of pain in hand decided to make itself known. Lucas hissed as he stood up and cradled his hand to his chest.

His hand was already swelling, broken blood vessels and capillaries already causing purple to rise. By the end of the day his hand was going to be a swollen, bruised mess. Shit. Just what he needed. The boy looked at him in alarm. “Hey, hey. Take my seat. I’m getting off soon anyways. You should get ice on that as soon as possible! I didn’t realize you hit your hand so hard.” The boy got up from his seat before Lucas could tell him not to bother because he was also getting off soon.

Standing, the boy towered above him and Lucas had to tilt his head up to meet his gaze. Lucas was momentarily distracted with the piercing blue of the boy’s eyes and his long lashes. If kindness could be personified Lucas thought it would take the form of the boy’s eyes. “No it’s okay! You can sit down, I’m also getting off soon.” Lucas chuckled nervously, “I’m okay, I just bruise annoyingly easily.” The boy smiled. “I’ll stand with you, if you don’t mind. I need to stretch my legs anyways. I don’t want to fall asleep again and miss my stop.”

Lucas’ eyes flickered up and met the boy’s eyes and soft smile. Lucas quickly looked down and then out the window, feigning nonchalance even though he could feel his ears burning. Lucas expected the conversation to die down to polite disinterest, but the boy surprisingly spoke again to him. “My name is Eliott by the way. I’ve actually seen you take this bus before… I take it when I miss my earlier one… and I usually sit way at the back.”

Lucas flushed at the prospect of Eliott having noticed him before. “Lucas,” he replied. “Do you go to Laval?” Eliott nodded. “Yea, third year lit major and fine arts minor. You?”

“Second year bio major and biochem minor.” Eliott whistled, impressed. “Wow we have a science kid here. I couldn’t do science or anything involving math to save my life.” Lucas laughed. “Well I couldn’t do anything involving literature or essay writing… I’d choose calculus over Flaubert any day.

Eliott smiled at him and a lull in conversation had Lucas fidgeting nervously and wondering why Eliott had bothered talking to him in the first place. Was it normal for strangers to be so nice and caring? Lucas didn’t really interact with anyone outside his small but close-knit circle of friends, so he wasn’t exactly the most outgoing or socially adept person. When Lucas looked up, Eliott was staring at him. It was Eliott’s turn to duck his head abashedly and pretended he hadn’t been admiring Lucas face and wondering how Lucas had gotten the strange bruises on his neck that peeped out from beneath his burgundy scarf.

As Lucas watched the sun-dappled sidewalks blur past them through the windows and worried about the growing bruise on his hand, Eliott spoke up again. “I work as a bartender, in the evenings after classes. That’s why I have a tendency to sleep in… late shifts and all.”

“Oh, whereabouts do you work at?” asked Lucas, picturing some rowdy, flashy bar filled with people as good looking and suave as Eliott. “It’s a jazz club – Treble Clef! A little hole in the wall, but the music is great and the ambience is always nice… you should come sometime, if you’re in to jazz. I’ve also been told that I make a pretty mean mojito.” Eliott winked and Lucas tried not to sound to eager when he agreed he’d have to stop by sometime. He was, in fact, a huge of fan of jazz music.

“I can’t make any cool cocktails, but I work at – well volunteer at, an animal shelter – you should stop by if you’re into cute puppies and cats, and the odd guinea pig or hamster that passes through.” Lucas laughed as Eliott’s eyes widened with excitement. “Hell yes! I live in an apartment that bans pets, but I’ve always wanted a cat. I used to have one back at my parent’s house named Sasha. She was the fattest, squishiest cat alive. Let’s make a deal then. If you come to the jazz bar, I’ll come visit you and the cute animals.” Lucas grinned. “Deal.”

~

By the time Lucas and Eliott reached their bus stop, both getting off near their university, Lucas felt a bubble of excitement and giddiness expand in his chest every time Eliott so much as looked or laughed at him – his smile was contagious. Eliott was much goofier and sweeter than what Lucas thought possible.

As they got off the stop together, Lucas was hit with a funny, foreboding feeling and something wet trickled down his face. A gentle hand suddenly tilting his face up had him freezing. “Lucas! Your nose is bleeding! Here –” Eliott’s voice was once again filled with alarm. “Are you normally this accident-prone?” Elliott carefully pressed a tissue to Lucas’ nose. Lucas cringed inside. He had taken his regular shots this week, so he wasn’t sure why his body was deciding to betray him and bleed from every available orifice. Well, Eliott was living proof chivalry wasn’t dead thought Lucas to himself as he pinched his nose and waved off Eliott’s concern and offers to get ice or to walk him to his class. “Don’t worry! I get nose bleeds all the time… it’s the cold weather and the fact I forget to drink enough water,” Lucas lied. Eliott still looked worried when Lucas told him to get to class. “Go to class Eliott! Don’t worry about me. I wouldn’t want you to miss an absolutely enthralling (Lucas yawned jokingly) lecture on Shakespeare.” Eliott rolled his eyes but then smiled shyly at him.

 

“Now that I know you take this bus regularly in the mornings, I’m going take it more often.” Lucas scoffed, “Won’t you be late for your class if you take the later one though?” Eliott brushed a lock of hair from Lucas’ eyes casually, as if he did it all the time, unconscious of the riot of butterflies this action raised in Lucas’ stomach. He shrugged. “It’s worth it. You take care Lucas… make sure you don’t get anymore bruises or nosebleeds, yeah?” With one last smile, Eliott left and Lucas for once didn’t mind the copper tang of blood in the air or the dull throb of his bruises.

 

 


End file.
